“Em.”
She saw the paper in my hand.
Robert was still standing beside the table.
Then she looked at him.
“What is that?”
I walked past her into the dining room.
Robert was still standing beside the table.
I dropped the page in front of him.
“Is this yours?”
“Brian says another doctor missed an important result.”
He stared at it.
“Robert.”
His shoulders lowered.
“Brian says another doctor missed an important result. He says you discovered it afterward and never told his family.”
Robert sat down.
Emily whispered, “Dad?”
“You two have spoken about this before?”
Brian entered behind us.
Robert finally said, “It wasn’t that simple.”
Brian laughed once.
“That’s what you told me eight years ago.”
Emily looked between them.
“You two have spoken about this before?”
Robert’s mouth opened.
Brian nodded.
“Once.”
She turned to Robert.
“What happened?”
Robert’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
That was worse than any speech.
Brian said quietly, “Tell her.”
Robert looked at him.
Brian didn’t move.
“Did you know my family should have been told?”
Robert closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
We met an independent specialist outside Robert’s hospital system.
One word.
That was worse than any speech.
Later that week, with Brian’s permission, we met an independent specialist outside Robert’s hospital system.
Brian slid the records across the desk.
“Could earlier treatment have changed the outcome?”
The specialist read for a long time.
“The family should have been informed.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?” I asked.
